A small child awoke, shaking and quietly weeping. He had been having terrifying dreams of a strange and monstrous existence for months, a being of many eyes, black and gold scales, and unparalleled scale. The child shivered at the thought of it.
He sat up in the shadow of a huge tree, hugging his small body and attempting to find comfort in the little warmth of his own arms. The feeling he was being watched itched at the back of his mind. This lad's name was Mirev. An odd child in his world, not only because of his visions but also because of his race, a Blood Orc.
They are beings of the depths, constantly found in the ocean among the darkest places. Due to the extreme pressure they normally experience from the water above them, they possess physical strength beyond human capabilities both in structure and musculature. They also possess gills and the ability to use echolocation underwater due to the darkness of their homes.
The downside to their living area was that their eyes were never adapted to the light due to the darkness down below, making them completely blind. Oftentimes they would avoid even approaching the shallows, however in extreme cases they would emerge from the water in hopes of surviving a catastrophe. Because of their race, they are rare and due to being thought of as related to Orcs, bloodthirsty monsters, they are hunted as such for materials related to Arcane research.
Mirev, at this time, was alone. His undersea village crushed by a massive beast he had heard legends of. The memories of what he heard rushed through his head, destroying his composure instantly. He curled into a fetal position, about to begin weeping once more.
"H̸̢̛e̷͜͝l̷̕͜p̸͢͝ m̵̧͝ę̴͞,̸̢҇ p҉̢̕l̷͢͠ȩ̴͡a̵̡͡ş̵͝e҈̨̛"
A distant whisper fell upon the boy's pointed ears. Startled awake, he sat upright and shuffled away from it.
"I̵̢͕̩̭͆̎̚͠ n҈̨̙͂͂̑͡e҉̤̠̦̔͂͢͡e̸̮͌̎͢͠d̶̯̲̾͢͞ a̶̛͇̜͔͒̈̚͢i̵̞̗̦͌̾̊͢͝d̴̡͓̠̃͡."
The whisper sounded once more. Curious and afraid, Mirev stood and inched forwards. He was on land, where his echolocation was useless. The child was effectively blind and yet there was an unknown creature near him. As he neared, a strange atmosphere swept over him. He felt something damp in the air, and the temperature was increasing. He felt calm, but he knew that something was off.
"Who's there?" He called. As though becoming frantic at the response to it, the whisper suddenly grew to a screaming wail.
"I҉̯̰҇̎̃̚͜ͅ Ṋ̴͑͑̌͜͝E҉̨͚͚̤҇̒̍́E҈̣̪̳̓̆͜͠D̷̛̤͎͒͢ H̷̗̲̱͊̕͢E҈͉͍̮҇̅͢L҈̨̛̪̂P҈̢̛̮͙̬͛̃͌!"
Mirev stopped immediately. The temperature was rapidly increasing, as well as the amount of moisture in the air. He could feel it dripping off his limbs to the floor. It felt viscous and thick. The smell reminded him of something salvaged from a shipwreck near his village called an 'orange,' a type of fruit from the land. Shuffling forward, Mirev felt the floor become soft and lumpy, often pulsating underneath him.
He slipped a few times on the slicked ground, catching himself on a wall with the same texture.
Mirev at this point knew he should be alarmed, but there was something forcing him to be calm. Forcing him onwards.
"I̷̧̛̮͊ n҉̞͐͢͡ę̵̫͆́͞ę̸͎͎̒̚͞d҈̨͍̙͊͞.̸̛͉͍̮͊͆̚͜.̵̨̛̫̮̽.҈̢̬̱̈͡ f҈̥͒͜͝o̶̢̥̣͑̉̒͝o҈̛̯̱̉̓͜d҈̛͙̥̱̍̌̈́͜.̸̡̘̟҇̾̃̾" This time Mirev knew exactly what would happen to him. He was not daft, like some of the other children in the village. He knew that something was playing with his head and that he must leave to survive. Struggling, he attempted to force his way backwards. His blood pumping, his mind racing, he felt the ground shift. He slipped, and he felt like he was being pulled towards the voice. He was inside a beast, a monster. He hit the ground hard, with the soft floor cushioning his fall. When he tried to stand, a wall of flesh bore down on him, pressing him further into the belly of the beast.
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"We've been getting reports of abnormal turbulence in the sea near here from fishermen, we think something major might have happened in the ocean to cause it. If we're lucky, we might even catch us some Blood Orcs."
"Captain, weren't we told not to come here? Someone mentioned the spirits becoming rather restless. If we venture too far from the path-"
"Shhhh! Listen!" A small group of people stopped nearby the cave entrance, hearing sounds of gurgling and sloshing.
"I... think this is a Gorehoarder.... Right? Shouldn't we report this?"
"No, remember what Gorehoarders release in their throats? Vitality Essence! We can become rich!"
The humans planned their futures of riches and women, while the child was being consumed inside.
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Mirev fell into a pit of something fluid, burning at him as he panicked. Rather, attempted to panic. He was still calmed by the odd substance. Then he heard it:
"Mirev, is... is that you?" His mother's voice.
"Mama...?? You're alive?"
"Yes child, I'm here, come to me, we'll be together again." Mirev was feeling choked, eyes tearing up from his discovery. In that moment he had an unbidden revelation.
"NO! It can't be! I heard what happened to you at the village! You aren't real!"
"Mirev! Why are you saying such things? What are you talking about?"
"You aren't mother!" Holding back his sobs, Mirev forced himself to ignore the voice and think hard about what he could do to escape.
The voice meant to ensnare him broke, failing to hold him, enabling him to control himself fully once more.
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An ancient Blood Orc stood on the edge of an abyss not even he could sense the depths of. His crimson skin was taught across his physique and his posture solid and unerring. The old Orc listened to the sound of the depths he lived in, and sighed with his gills flaring.
"We are matter and mind. All as one. The liquid of blood and sea, the solid of bone and sand, the flesh of seagrass and muscle, the chaos of nature and will. We begin the path to mastering ourselves when we master both our minds and our bodies in the truest sense." He said, monologuing his knowledge of the Arcane.
"To master our bodies, we must hold all affinities. For us Blood Orcs, our affinities are with fluid and earthen matter, though it is always the fluid which we grasp control of easier. For example, one of our techniques involves lightening the weight of the ocean upon our shoulders to enhance our speed in combat, while another involves controlling our blood to our advantage in battle. The latter is what earned us the name of 'Blood Orcs.'"
The old Orc turned and faced his pupils, the children of his village.
"For now, we will focus on minimizing load on our bodies. This is not a problem since you all have too little proficiency, but when you have trained enough you must remember this. Do NOT lessen the load too quickly, or you will die a miserable death." One of the children sat glass-eyed in the middle of the bunch, daydreaming.
"Mirev! Pay attention! This might save your life one day!"
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A faint memory replayed before Mirev's sightless eyes as he struggled in the stomach he was dropped into. Realizing it may be used to keep the fluids off of him in this situation, he clenched his disintegrating hands closed. It was a spell meant for unarmed combat, allowing maximum speed with the most simplified spellcasting methods possible. It required the hands to be empty and closed tight, but the spells formed inside the hands could affect the spellcaster immediately. The Berserker method.
He imagined the liquid flowing to his will and moving away from him, nearly screaming to ignore the pain and the feeling gnawing at his mind attempting to calm him. He felt the burning sensation lessen as the fluid was pushed away, leaving him covered in burns and pieces of other creatures that had fallen prey to the Gorehoarder.
With a pained sigh, Mirev shuddered and slowly tried to detect a way to get out of his predicament.